


Troubled Waters

by AngiePen



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 01:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngiePen/pseuds/AngiePen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things aren't always what they seem, or what we hope, or what we need.  If we're lucky, though, there'll be someone else around who notices and is willing to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troubled Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shy_Nerthuserce](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shy_Nerthuserce).



> Written for the November 2005 LOTRIPS_FQF, for Shy_Nerthuserce.
> 
> Request: Andy/Orlando: first-time, h/c - can be fluffy.

Andy'd been standing by the window looking out into the darkness, at the twinkling lights of Wellington and the darker black of the ocean beyond. And because he'd been there, by the window a meter or so behind the overstuffed chair Bean was sitting in, he was the only one in the room, besides Bean of course, who'd seen Orlando's face.

Everyone knew how tight the Fellowship was. They'd bonded from the beginning -- hung out together, played pranks on each other, went surfing and snowboarding and bungee-jumping and lord knew what other activities the production's insurance agents had absolutely forbidden. They went out to eat and out to drink and just out, to the beach or the shops or woods. It was rare to find one of them alone, without at least one other and usually a mob, laughing and shoving and drinking and having a great time around the hours in makeup and hours of filming and hours just waiting around.

That was the Fellowship.

Andy's experience so far had been quite different. His character was going to be CGIed in, so he'd spent most of his time in the motion capture studio, hurling himself around in front of a blue screen. Even when he was on an actual set or location, so they could shoot the scenes with him interacting with the others, which would be composited somehow with the same scenes of him by himself and the other actors by _them_ selves and the animated Gollum by _him_ self, it was usually just with Elijah and Astin. They were nice enough guys but they were Fellowship and Andy wasn't. That was okay; Andy was used to being a bit of a loner during a production. He threw himself into his roles with absolute concentration, and this one was tougher than most.

But still, Elijah and Astin were always bubbling over with stories about how they'd done this or that, of how Dom had played a prank on Orlando, or Viggo had tackled Bean into the ground just for the hell of it, and he still wasn't quite sure who'd been responsible for turning "cunt" into an acceptable, household word around the production team, but there you go. Hell, even Astin, who'd struck Andy as neither a hot dog nor an adventure hound, had gone and hurled himself off a bridge with the classic rubber band around his ankles, and wasn't _that_ an image to make one squint?

So finally Andy'd agreed to go with Lij and Astin to one of the parties the Fellowship threw, see what it was all about and say hey to people he'd been introduced to weeks or months ago and not seen since.

And so there he was, standing behind Bean's chair, and he'd turned around just in time to see Orlando plop down on Bean's lap and snog him, which was something Orlando seemed to do with pretty much everyone, if what Andy'd seen that evening was anything to go by. But this time, instead of snogging back like Viggo had, or tickling him silly like Liv had, or spreading his legs and letting him sink slowly to the floor arse-end first like Karl had, Bean had jerked his head back, spat out something harsh-sounding and given the lad a hard, punching shove in the chest that sent him thumping to the floor.

And only Andy, of all the others in the room, had been in a position to see the fear and pain and finally the mortified shame on Orlando's face, before he scrambled to his feet with an almost-convincing laugh and vanished out through the swinging doors to the kitchen in search of a beer. Or so he'd said.

But while everyone else was just eyerolling or laughing or dancing, with one or two comments -- "Fuck, Bean, lighten up!" -- Andy at the window saw a shadow moving across the lawn toward the beach.

 

Andy found Orlando sitting in the sand about a hundred meters or so from the house, digging a hole with one hand while he stared out into the surf. He dropped a bottle of beer into the well of the lad's crossed legs and flopped down next to him.

"Gettin' kind of stuffy in there, yeah?"

Orlando snorted and popped the cap off his beer. He took a long slug, then nodded and said, "Gets warm with that many people, you know?"

"Or one in particular. Someone's in a mood tonight. Bit of a shock?" Andy wasn't sure he should be doing this, but fuck, the kid's right out of school and thousands of miles away from anything he knows. And none of his friends were here and it seemed someone should be, so....

"No! Really, it's great -- we kid around like that all the time, you know?"

Andy could almost hear the blush in Orlando's denials, and the light glinting off the beer bottle in the lad's hands was trembling.

He leaned closer until their shoulders just barely touched and said, "I was right there, behind him. Closer than you. He said, 'Not here, you dumb cunt!' and that was one nasty tone he used." He shrugged and sipped his own beer. "Tells me a couple things. One, that you've been on his lap before and it's been fine, and two, that he was embarassed enough that I doubt it was just getting a lap-ornament and a quick snog that jolted him."

Orlando groaned and curled up around himself, his arms folded over his drawn-up knees and his face buried between them. Hiding -- from Andy, from the rest of the world. From what he'd done. From what Bean had done. Andy figured that if Orlando could come up with a way to teleport himself back to England right then, he'd have done it.

He draped an arm around the kid's shoulders and said, "Hey, there are fuckwads all over, you know? And in this business more than most, 'cause we're better at hiding it than most folks."

The lad shook his head, his shoulders hunching away in rejection and denial. "No, he's not like that. It was my fault -- I should've known. He's going through a rough spot, his wife's leaving him and being a bitch about it and he's worried about his girls and he's here and it's all there and he's wound up. He's a great guy, seriously."

Andy rolled his eyes, safely out of sight of the buried face. "So... he was doing you a favor when he fucked you, then?"

Orlando's head popped up, his eyes wide.

"Guess," said Andy calmly. "Pretty obvious, though."

"Fuck." Orlando stared at him hard, then chugged the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down into the hole he'd been digging. Andy heard it hit the bottom with a splash.

"For what it's worth," Andy commented calmly, "I think he was a prick about it. Stupid, too. If he'd just laughed and tickled you or whatever, no one would've thought anything of it."

Orlando nodded and said, "That's what I--" then cut himself off.

Andy gave him a rueful smile, unnoticed in the dark. "That's what you thought? You went around snogging everyone else so you could do it to him without anyone saying anything."

The lad hunched his shoulders higher, but nodded, and Andy sighed.

"Look, love, blokes like Bean, they're not into that sort of thing, yeah? You're looking to have fun, maybe fall for someone, get a little romance into it, all that. Bean's not like that. He's older, he's been around, and he has a lot more to lose than you do. Bean, he's a star. Not A-list, not quite, but next best thing in England, and one or two really good roles could give him the States, where the money is. He's built his professional rep on the tough-guy roles, the bad guy, the rough hero. Sure, he's done a few other things, but how many people've even heard of Caravaggio?"

He shook his head. "Kate an' Reggie who buy their tickets for the cinema know that Sean Bean is a big, tough, manly-man. If they ever found out otherwise, his career would shrivel up and die. Or so say the money-blokes an' we all listen to them." All right, Serkis, leave off the irony; the kid doesn't need any complications. "Even if he does care about you he's not about to blow everything by letting even a rumor get out that he might bat for the other team. He's just not, so don't count on it and you won't be disappointed."

Orlando stared off at the water for a few moments, then flopped back down flat on the sand. "You're a real bastard, you know that?" he murmured.

Andy shrugged. "I could lay on all kinds of comforting shit, and it'd be warm and soft and comfy, but it'd still be shit and it'd still stink."

Orlando choked out a laugh. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Feel free, love. I'll put it into the public domain, just for you." Andy grinned down at him and took a pull of his beer.

They hung out together silently for a few minutes, watching the stars and the ocean. Finally, Orlando said, "So, Sean was just feeling like hell and needed a good fuck. And I was there, and handy, and eager."

"Looks like." What more could you say to something like that?

Orlando sat up and turned to face Andy for the first time. "And what if I were feeling like hell and needed a good fuck?"

Andy blinked, then cocked his head at the young man, studying his face. "And I'm here and I'm handy?"

"But not eager." Orlando shrugged and looked away.

"I didn't say that. Maybe I just don't like getting sand in my delicate parts." Andy wasn't sure why he was flirting -- and it _was_ flirting, even if it wasn't the sort of flirting he'd do with a girl. The kid was a mess, even if he was hiding it fairly well, and they were in pretty much the same position Orlando and Bean had been in, whenever it'd happened, and look how well _that_ had turned out.

On the other hand, argued the part of him that wanted to get laid, you're not some green kid with stars in his eyes and a hero-worshipping crush. He knew exactly what was being offered -- sex and not much else -- and that sounded pretty good right now. And the lad could probably stand to let out some tension.

Orlando looked up again and cocked his head to one side. "My place is right up the beach. I've got a bed, and stuff. If you're serious." He looked away and added, "If you're kidding, that's okay."

"Sounds good," Andy said. He slugged down the last of his beer and hauled himself to his feet. Besides, the walk'll give the kid a chance to change his mind. "Let's go."

Orlando stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed, then gave a harsh laugh. "Sure, what the fuck." He plucked his empty bottle out of its hole and led the way down the shore.

 

Less than twenty minutes later, they were rolling around on Orlando's queen-size bed, naked and sweating and gasping. Andy'd been afraid the lad was new to all this, but clearly that wasn't the case. He'd been pounced as soon as his pants had hit the carpet, wrestled down on his belly with his face in a pillow, and a lubed finger shoved into him while those gleaming white teeth had sunk into his shoulder hard enough that he knew he'd have a bruise the next day.

Andy was more than willing to let a partner do the work, and from the way Orlando was snarling and muttering, it sounded like he needed it. He didn't imagine Bean had been terribly passive in bed, so if the lad wanted to imagine things happening another way, that was fine with Andy.

"Fucking cunt," Orlando growled. "Think you're such a fucking star...." The finger in Andy's arse withdrew and was immediately replaced by two. "Big man, fucking ego!" Three fingers, twisting and stretching him. "Let me run on like some stupid little cunting baby!" Fingers withdrew and a latex-covered cock took their place, slamming in hard. "You're so wonderful, Sean!" Slam! "I love your movies, Sean!" Slam! "I fucking _love_ you, Sean!" Slam!

Whatever else the kid had going on, he had great technique. Andy liked it rough anyway, and every thrust hit his sweet spot. By the time Orlando was through his diatribe, telling off Sean-Cunting-Bean in every way he could think of, Andy was teetering on the edge and desperate to come. One last eruption of cussing poured into his ear and Orlando collapsed onto his back, leaving Andy hard and oozing and thrumming with tension.

When the panting body finally rolled off him to one side, flopping bonelessly into the mattress, Andy groaned and rolled over. Great, he thought, do a guy a favor and what does it get you? Orlando looked peaceful and relaxed and that was fine but Andy needed some help. He reached over and shook Orlando's shoulder and said, "Umm, hey, think you could give me a hand, here?"

Orlando rolled up on his side and gave him a sweet smile. "Sorry, I just thought maybe you'd, well, like to have a turn?" He ran a fingertip across Andy's lower lip, then drew it down his chin, his throat, his chest, all the way down to the tip of his aching cock. He leaned forward and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, and for the first time since they'd hit the bed, Andy was sure that the lad's attention was focused on _him._

It was like someone had swapped bedmates on him. All the stress and tension were gone -- well, yeah, a good orgasm'd do that to you, but still -- and the face looked... younger. He looked his proper age again. The cynical smirk was gone, and the suspicious glare, and the defensive hunching, and the lad suddenly looked like someone Andy'd, well, actually _choose_ to have a romp with, even if he weren't trying to do a good turn.

"Sure," he said, and planted a quick, smacking kiss on the tip of the lad's nose.

Orlando squeaked and jerked back, then laughed and glommed onto him. "So, how do you want me?"

"Oh, I think this'll be just dandy." Andy threw a leg over Orlando's hip and pulled him close for another kiss. And they laughed and rolled over and there were hands everywhere, caressing and tickling and flicking and teasing, and their chorused moans were purely of want and pleasure, with no undertones of anger or hurt this time. And when Andy finally sank into the lad's body, he was looking down into his warm, smiling, brown eyes. And when he finally came, his hand was tight around a solid cock and the body surrounding him was spasming along with his, and Andy spared a moment to thank God for youth and short recovery times.

And when they were still at last, in a tangled, sweating, gasping pile, Andy's next words were, "Bean's an idiot."

Orlando's response was a giggle, a nod and a kiss, which was about as much as the subject of some other guy's idiocy warranted right at that point in time. They had better things to do, and more pleasant things to dream of.


End file.
